


Sugar We're Going Down

by LivingInSmilesIsBetter (axm)



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: 1x16, F/M, Filler, morgue smut, sexytiems in the office
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 02:30:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3793270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/axm/pseuds/LivingInSmilesIsBetter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgue smut. 'nuff said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar We're Going Down

**Author's Note:**

> I sat on this for weeks (maybe even months? How long ago did 1x16 even air anyway?!) because I couldn’t get it in character. In the end I decided, eh. It’s morgue smut. It doesn’t have to be in character.  
> So here ya go. Some Molly/Henry for y’all.
> 
> 1x16 Filler. Molly and Henry in the morgue, and the reason Henry strutted into the precinct the next morning.

 

Molly pushed him back against the autopsy slab, and covered his lips with her own, pressing her body against his, clutching his shirt in her fists.

“Here?” Henry managed to get out between bruising kisses.

Trailing her lips along his jaw, the scrape of his stubble sharp against her sensitive skin, she nipped at his earlobe, and said in a hushed tone, “Your office.”

With her arms wrapped around his neck, she walked backwards, his hands exploring her curves through the dress as they moved. When her back hit the door she pulled his body flush to hers, hooked a leg around his thigh, and sucked his lower lip between hers. His hand slid off her hip, reached beside her, and he held her body to his as he opened the door so she wouldn’t tumble backwards.

Ever the gentleman.

He walked her to his desk, lights left off, until her ass hit the edge of the hard wood. He hoisted her up and stood between her parted legs, his hands trailing down her sides, down, down, down, to the hem of her dress. With a featherlight touch he hiked it up, dragging it with movements so slow it almost felt like torture even to her, until she lifted her hips and the dress was bunched at her waist.

She saw the approval in his eyes as he drank her in.

She hadn’t been lying about the lack of lingerie.

Dropping to his knees, he kissed a hot trail up the inside of her thigh. Draping one leg over his shoulder, her fingers gripped the edge of the desk, harder with each kiss closer to her center. His nose nuzzled her, his thumbs parted her just a little more, his tongue scraped across her throbbing clit - and she moaned her approval, her head dropping back, eyes fluttering closed.

He teased her, tight rotations with just the tip of his strong tongue, and lazy, long sweeps. She whimpered when he thrust it inside her, one hand sliding off the desk, moving to the back of his head, holding him to her, closer with each buck of her hips. Her body shuddered, her muscles tightening as her orgasm built, and she clung to him, meeting the thrusts of his tongue, but she refused to let go. Not just yet. When she found herself on the edge, just moments from falling, she jerked her hips back, and gave him an aroused smirk in response to his perplexed look. His lips shimmered with her, and she wrapped a hand around his shirt, clutched the material tight in her fist, and hauled him up to meet her lips, so she could taste herself on him.

“Fuck me,” she growled into his ear.

He dropped his pants, underwear too, until it pooled at his feet and he kicked it away. Molly handed him the condom she’d kept in the purse now discarded on the desk beside her, and pulled him in for a searing kiss while it was taken care of. She wanted it a little rough; she wanted to wake up tomorrow with bruises on her hips, a myriad of colors painting her skin, little painful reminders of this evening. But he was determined to be gentle. He eased her down until her back met the flat surface of his tidy desk, and then positioned her legs with care until her hips were almost off the end. Lifting her hips, he entered her slowly, filling her deep, and both sighed at the feeling.

But it wasn’t enough. Not for her. Not tonight. Taking his shirt in her fist again, she dragged him down as she raised up to meet him, and whispered hoarsely into his ear, “Switch places.”

The feeling of loss was brief. He withdrew, she shuffled off the desk, turned him around with the press of her index finger to his chest. Once he’d sat down on it, she ordered him to lie down with a gesture and a look; she hiked her dress up and straddled him, sinking down and taking him in one stroke. With the control now hers, Molly leaned back, arching her back and gripping his thighs tight, and rocked hard above him. Her hips rolled, her stomach muscles clenched, as she raised herself almost entirely off him, before rotating down with frenetic motions.

His hands curled at her hips, helping to guide her, but she fought against where he needed her, desperate for the angle that would hit her just right.

“Fuck,” she gasped out. “I just need…”  With a practiced ease, she raised up, swung herself around, and sank back down, her back to him now, the slide of him inside her sharper than before. His fingers dug into her hips again, but this time his hands moved with her, not guiding, just resting. She slipped one hand down to cup his balls, stroking his perineum with the pad of a finger, the other hand gripping at his thigh to keep her balance. Her rotations became shorter, barely lifting herself off him, the length of him stroking her g-spot and bringing her swiftly to release.

His hips jerked up, responding to her own body, aware of how close she was. He kept the rhythm, but it was his murmured, “Let go,” that ended her. Just for him. Just this once. She would. Her body tightened as she peaked, and as the waves of orgasm washed through her she shuddered, her muscles twitching, her body arching forward, almost slumping over his thighs. She allowed herself just a few minutes to catch her breath and take control of her legs again, and rolled them with a grace that might have surprised him. With her on her back again, ankles locked behind him, she wrapped her arms around his neck, drew him down tight against her, and encouraged him to thrust until he found his own release.

Flashing her a grin in the darkened office, he eased up, slid down the desk, and dragged her down with him, until their were back in their original position: his feet on the floor, her back on the desk and her legs dangling off the edge. He lifted one of her legs, bringing her hips off the hard surface, her flexibility allowing her to rest it almost flush against his torso. His hips pistoned, filling her with hard, deep strokes, long at first, growing shorter, finally grunting out what might have been her name - might have been someone else's - when his own orgasm hit.

Looking up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, Molly smirked. “Consider the desk officially christened.”

He let out a chuckle between shuddering breaths, his eyes shining in the glow of release, and withdrew slowly. Protection taken care of, he helped ease her off the desk, and turned her around in the dim room. His fingertips grazed up her back, lifting her dress a little higher, and he examined her skin in the soft glow of streetlamps filtering in through the blinds.

“Did you mark me as your own?”

“The desk is rather hard,” he apologized.

“It’s okay. I like it that way.”

He turned her back around, and covered her lips with his, a hand at her lower back bringing her body against him. Sliding his lips from hers, he murmured, “Perhaps a mattress would be better next time.”

“Next time?” Molly asked with a playful lilt.

“Definitely a next time,” he confirmed.

“Well, Doctor Morgan,” she teased, “No reason why that can’t be tonight.” She straightened her dress, gesturing for him to sort out his pants, and once they were both appropriate again, led him out of the morgue and into the nearest cab, to whichever apartment was closest.

 (Because of roommate reasons, it turned out hers was more appropriate. As were the items in her closet and drawers...)

  


**Author's Note:**

> Ridiculous title for a ridiculous smut fic.


End file.
